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At Island Bridge she met her tide.Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!The Fin had a flux and his Ebba a ride.Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!We're all up to the years in hues and cribies.That's what she's done for wee!
Woe!
Nomad may roam with Nabuch but let naaman laugh at Jor-dan! For we, we have taken our sheet upon her stones where we
have hanged our hearts in her trees; and we list, as she bibs us,
by the waters of babalong.